


Plant your hope with good seeds

by Ascel



Series: from my dreams [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dystopia, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Propaganda, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascel/pseuds/Ascel
Summary: When all of Hux's plans come to fruition, it leaves him alone, unallied, and a traitor to everything he's known. He should've known getting in bed with an enemy would never end well.Nothing good would ever come from getting close to Kylo Ren.





	1. Hux I

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the last part of a series. While I do believe you may skip the first part, reading the second one may be necessary to understand what's happening here.
> 
> The title comes from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_YJhmGKTxk).

Hux drummed his fingers on the table impatiently.

There was, he had learned, a great deal of talking done in every Resistance's meeting. They seemed to be under the impression that the best way to choose a course of action was to offer everyone a chance to express their views, listen to all arguments, and then try to reach a consensus that pleased everybody. It was a lovely idea, but it worked as well as it had in the old republic senate, before Snoke had dealt with it; which is to say, not at all. They talked and talked and talked, talking themselves in circles until every possible solution was deemed impossible.

Hux thought it was highly inefficient, a waste of time and resources. But of course, no one asked _him_ for an opinion.

He had been allowed to attend the meetings – just like everyone else on this damned base, because apparently the Resistance never operated on need-to-know basis, as they believed in transparency and democracy and all those grand words. But Hux hadn't been invited to speak, or view anything other than the most basic intel, or do anything, really. Even though it's been months since he came to D'Qar, he still was being treated as a guest, at best – comfortable and safe and utterly powerless. The Resistance was happy to use his information and honourable enough to let him leave, but they certainly weren't going to listen to him.

It was quite different from what he had imagined, when he had planned that little rescue. He'd wanted action, to use the momentum of the protests and the Games and start a war as soon as possible, to move before Snoke even knew what was happening, to reap him apart and take everything Hux had wanted.

Instead he was stuck on an old, run-down base, listening to yet another being whine about it woes and the galactic injustice, without the ability to do anything.

It was maddening, especially when he knew every moment wasted brought them closer to losing.

The Resistance hadn't had the technology or firepower of the Republic. They should've seized the moment, capitalize on the riots and use the miraculously escaped Victors to discredit Snoke and gain popularity. Especially Rey and Finn, those two bright-eyed children so in love with each other, who defied the Capitol first. It would've worked wonderfully.

But once they actually got to the Resistance there was nothing of that sort. Instead they talked about child soldiers and trauma and recovery, surrounding the victors with doctors and shielding them from everything. Phasma, who has at least been able to sneak out on the grounds of being an actual adult, said it was awful, but then she still went back there from time to time.

All of it made Hux wonder if this whole idea wasn't a folly, if defecting to the Resistance wasn't the worst mistake he had ever made. He had lost so much in the process. All of his carefully cultivated contacts in the Capitol, political influence and knowledge, and he certainly didn't gain anything besides a headache. Not even what he hadn't let himself admit he wanted to keep.

If there was one thing he hadn't been counting on, it was how good Organa actually was. Hux had heard the stories, of course. Leia Organa of the long lost Alderaan, a princess turned rebel and then general, the kind of leader the Galaxy needed. He had thought most of them were closer to the legends, hearsay and exaggerations.

But Organa, what little he saw of her, was more than a capable leader. She knew how to inspire, how to make people listen, how to execute her will. A terrific politician, without the greed and hunger for power Hux saw so many times before in the Capitol. Instead she was kind and gentle towards the people around her, and Hux would've thought her weak, if he didn't see the steel core of her beliefs underneath the soft exterior.

Leia Organa was full of righteous fury, and if the time has chipped away at her sharper edges, it only made her more dangerous.

Hux had to admit, reluctantly, that he admired her. It must've taken enormous strength, to not give into despair after all she's lost. To fight a fight she couldn't hope to win, and to still adhere to her own morals.

It was also stupid, of course. Organa could've accomplished so much more if she'd rid herself of sentimentality and started actually using her power and seeing people as the tools that they were. One or two lives were not much when one was fighting for the whole galaxy, after all. She must've known sacrifices had to be made.

She did not seem to have problem with sacrificing her own son.

Hux wondered, once again, how exactly the conversation between Dameron and Organa looked like, after they first landed on D'Qar, though he did not envy Dameron his role as a news-breaker. Hux was rushed to debriefing almost immediately, but it was with lower officers in the Resistance, not Organa herself. He did not meet her until a few days later, actually, and even then the meeting was brief. She seemed as keen to avoid him as he was to avoid her. He wasn't surprised, though he wondered if it was because of her distaste for his role in the Games or because of something more personal. What did Organa think of him, when he promised to bring back her son when she couldn't, and then did not deliver? Hux would've hated them all, if he was in her place. Somehow he doubted Organa's high principles protected her from such feelings.

In any case, it was all very inconvenient for him. He planned on using Organa's gratitude to quickly integrate himself in the Resistance's high command, but that leverage was gone. With the level of distrust aimed on him and no powerful allies, even the stolen information regarding Capitol's defences was not enough to gain the access to the meetings where things were actually decided. Instead he was stuck here, listening to yet another Trogutan about perceived racial prejudice, with no way to prove himself.

Hux sighed, almost rolling his eyes as the speaker carried on listening all the offenses he had, in his opinion, witnessed at the base. This was little more than a waste of time. It was more useful in the beginning, when he had to learn how the Resistance operated, what they thought and talked about, what was important to them. But by now he could list all the offenses himself, predict the reactions, and even propose a solution for their imagined problems. But no one would bother to listen, and so here he was, stuck and alone.

He drummed his fingers again and considered leaving. He could probably accomplish more by seeking out Phasma. She's been cross with him in the beginning, but she was the only steadfast ally he had here. And he did miss her - they were never truly friends, back in the Capitol, because people like them did not have friends. But she was the closest thing he had to one, and now she was the only person back from home with whom he still had contact. There was still Mitaka, of course, but he was a subordinate, even now. Unamo, too. He had never been close with her, so maybe it was something he should work on now. She was born and raised on Coruscant, just like him. She must hate the Resistance base as much as he did.

It was quite pitiful, actually, to have only three people in his corner. He'd gone from commanding the entire Games and controlling most of the Republic's propaganda, not to mention his personal popularity, to this.

He listened to the Trogutan whining. Coming here might've been a mistake, but it was one he couldn't undo. He simply had to make best of it.

 

* * *

 

He did end up seeking Phasma after the meeting. It would've been rude to leave in the middle of discussing such an important issue, even if the discussion happened every week, and Hux needed all the goodwill he could get, so he stayed. It did not stop him from thinking it was senseless.

He found Phasma in the first place he looked for her, near the lake outside of the base. She said she enjoyed the outdoors, the ability to do her exercises in fresh air and in peace, undisturbed. Personally Hux thought she also enjoyed not being observed every minute of the day.

"Are you going to hide away here forever?" He asked in lieu of a greeting.

"Why, should I join you in those little Resistance meetings?" Phasma glared at him a little. She might've been still a bit cross with him. "What did you discuss today? The systematic violence against the Twil'leks?" The tone of her voice was mocking.

Hux fought the urge to snap at her. He knew, rationally, that Phasma had good reasons to be angry with. He just wished it wouldn't last so long. But he also knew he was the only person she could argue with, at the moment. She would never talk to Unamo like this and she couldn't possibly say anything like it to her healers, when they all they were telling her was how it was okay to be angry and hurt, how terribly traumatized she should be by being in the Games.

Out of all of them, Phasma had taken the worst to living in D'Qar. She genuinely believed in the Republic's ideas and in the Games, so being constantly surrounded by all the talk about how evil it was would've been irritating on its own. But the fact that they wanted to fix her seemed to insult Phasma personally. It made her angry enough to want to antagonize everyone, Hux included.

Hux himself could even admit that he deserved it, in a way. He was the one who brought them here.

"That's what I wanted to talk about, actually," Hux said.

Phasma grimaced, turning away from him. Apparently whatever it was that she was seeing in the waters of the lake was more interesting.

"Don't tell me you're not fed up with it." Hux was, admittedly, getting fed up with her behaviour, too. "They treat us like pariahs and they make decisions over our heads like we are unruly children. Worst of all, they don't tell as anything."

"You don't tell me shit, Hux." Phasma shot him a look over her shoulder. "You could at least admit it."

Hux rolled his eyes. "Are you still mad about that?"

"You lied to me, Hux," Phasma said in a low voice.

"I didn't lie." Technically, he didn't. And the only reason Phasma was so mad about it was because she was looking for something to be mad about. She knew he had lied to her many times before, on equally serious issues. How could he not, with the lives they led in Capitol. There was a lit of things he could've never told her.

"Yeah," Phasma scoffed. "And were you ever going to tell me that Ren was Organa's son?"

"I was under an impression it was a state secret," Hux said. It probably was, in some way, even if only because Snoke never talked about it. "And that I shouldn't tell those."

"Don't fuck with me," Phasma sounded genuinely irritated. "We were already planning a mutiny. You could've told me, but you choose not to. You've let me walked blindly into this."

"And how would've you knowing who he was change anything?" Hux asked. It wouldn't've changed anything, and they both knew it. Phasma wanted to live and she was ready to turn her back on her own beliefs because of it. Whatever she did or did not know was inconsequential compared to that.

But this wasn't something she was particularly happy to know about herself, so blaming Hux was easier. She was half-right, anyway. She might've been happier if his gamble hadn't failed so spectacularly.

"Look," Hux said, "I've made a mistake, I know. I should've never brought us here. If you had won the Games we both would be in a much better position and-"

"You would've never chosen me over Ren," Phasma interrupted him.

Hux breath caught in his throat. He did not want to even think about it, much less talk, and in any case, it wasn't even true. He swallowed and carried on.

"Whatever might've been, we're both here now and we can only make the best of it. Don't you have enough of living like this, isolated and overlooked? How much longer should we wait?"

Phasma stayed silent, but looked at him as if she was weighting his worth. It was unnerving; he hadn't seen that look of hers directed in him in quite a while.

"And what, exactly, do you intend to do about it?" she asked at least.

 _I don't know_ , Hux thought. _It's why I came to you._

"They can't ignore us if we make ourselves indispensable," he said instead.

"How?" Phasma's voice was dry, like he was already failing some kind of test.

Hux hesitated. He didn't have any big plan, a grand idea how to succeed. Not this time. But damn him if he admitted it.

"Even in the Resistance," he said slowly, "there have to be people who want more than this cheap imitation of altruism. We could use that. And besides, you are in better position than I am. They think you are a victim, and if you admit it, they will be so overjoyed they will likely forget about everything else. If you can get them to trust you, to believe you..."

"You want me to pretend to believe in their propaganda in order to better manipulate them?" Phasma was definitely amused now.

Hux shrugged. "Well, we do live among them."

"It can't possibly get worse," Phasma muttered. She levelled him a serious look. "If I do this. If I pretend to believe them. You mustn't fuck up this time, Hux. Not for anything, not even Ren."

Hux fought down anger than rose in him at a mention of that name. He did not know why Phasma insisted on bringing it up.

"You know me better than to think I would jeopardize my plans for anyone."

"Maybe. Or maybe I know you well enough to think exactly that," Phasma said. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? You already lost him."

Hux's comm signalled a new massage before he could reply. He looked at it, startled. He rarely had an occasion to use it now, when he couldn't possibly hope to contact anyone he knew in the Capitol.

Phasma's comm was ringing, too, and she looked as surprised at it as he was.

Hux's looked down on the screen. The massage seemed to come directly from Leia Organa, and he had to swallow down a sudden fear. Phasma looked over his shoulder, and her brows furrowed.

"Why would Organa want both of us now?" Phasma asked.

"I don't know," Hux said.

 

* * *

 

The massage seemed to be an invitation, though that did not cure Hux's fears. He couldn't understand why Organa would like to see them both now, after months of silence. She couldn't have learned of their conversation by the lake, not so quickly, but if she's gotten any proof that Hux's intentions were not so pure as he had repeatedly assured the Resistance they were - and his intentions definitely were not pure – he would be a dead man.

It wouldn't be so surprising if they choose to hold Phasma, or anyone else, complicit. Political trials were always more believable when there was more than one person accused.

Perhaps he had overestimated the nobleness of Leia Organa's spirit.

By the time they got to the building named in a message Hux had convinced himself he was walking to his own death. He dreaded going to that room, even if there was nothing he could possibly do to change it. He never thought he would be as helpless as he was here.

He halted when he walked through the doorway and caught a sight of Finn and Rey already sitting at the table. He hadn't seen them in a while, both because they were shielded by the Resistance and because he had no desire to do so. But he thought they would look better after a few months of being pampered so, not skinnier and more withdrawn then they were in the Capitol.

There was no one else here, and Hux sat himself at the other side of the table, away from Rey, who was already glaring daggers at him. Phasma took a place in between them, seemingly amused.

The meeting room looked fairly standard, with no indication to any other purpose. It was a little dirty and visibly old, like everything else on the base, but it did not look like there were

Hux looked down at his own hands, stopping himself from nervously drumming his fingers. He couldn't think of any reason to gather the four of them in one place, not when the Resistance was so keen to keep them apart before. Technically they were all refugees, that much was true, but so were Unamo and Mitaka, and yet they were absent. And what else did he, Phasma, and these two pests have in common? Unlike others, Hux wasn't a victor.

He did not have to wait long to get his answers. Leia Organa came to see them herself, with only Dameron to accompany her. The man immediately send a reassuring smile to Finn and Rey, though Hux had noticed his eyes lingered mostly on the former. But whatever Dameron's feelings were, he did appear to be a high-ranking member of the Resistance. To have Organa’s trust, despite his failure on Coruscant. It could be useful, though Hux still resented it.

 Organa herself was a surprisingly petite woman, but she still managed to always get the attention of everyone around her. She carried herself like with the air of royalty, though she wore plain clothing and didn't make any effort to mask her age. Hux knew she preferred to be called a general now.

"Thank you for coming," she said. "I wanted you all to learn something that concerns you directly."

She looked at Dameron imploringly.

"We have a plan," Dameron said, "to rescue the remaining victors from the Capitol."

Oh, Hux thought.

That explained everything, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not particularly happy with this chapter, but I really wanted to get it posted today. It's also unbetad, so if you see any mistakes please do point them out.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, anyway. If you did, please consider sharing your thoughts! I do love hearing what people think. You can also find me on tumblr [here](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/).


	2. Kylo I

The last thing Kylo remembered from the arena was a sight of _Millenium Falcon_ lifting up into the sky.

Maybe he was hallucinating, by then. He must've been, to see that particular ship. It wouldn't be out of possibility - the electric discharge from the lightning sent him flying and he thought he'd hit his head on the way down. He should've left for the beach with Rey, where it was safer. He knew the lightning and thunder were unnatural, brought up by a mind of a Gamemaker. He thought they were a trap, just like the rain of blood and wolves. If he survived, he could learn more about the arena.

He didn't think it was intended to bring down the arena itself.

So in the end he went flying and hit his head and then his mind made up a vision of a ship he hadn't seen in years. He hadn't thought of in years, too. Probably not since his last Games, when he still was a frightened child waiting for his father to come and rescue him. Back then, before he learned his place on Coruscant, before Snoke had shown what he should be, had taught him how to survive, how to win – back when he believed there would be someone to rescue him. He used to imagine his father storming the arena in the Falcon and whisking him away or his mother overthrowing the Capitol just for him. In his darkest moment he even thought of his uncle coming back for him, with comfort and apologies. But no one ever came, and yet Kylo lived.

In the end he was the one to get himself out of the Games.

He hadn't thought of Falcon in years, but he also wasn't back in the Games in years. It must've been why he thought of it again, why his mind conjured such a vision. A fantasy carried over from his childhood and recalled when he thought he would die, alone and in pain. The best comfort his own mind could offer him: a hope he had long given up.

But then everything went black and he didn't remember anything else.

 

* * *

 

Later, he learned there truly was a ship and a rescue. Maybe it was even Falcon, though no one knew for sure. What they did know for sure - and what Kylo learned from whispers and glances, still lying in bed and recovering – was even more astonishing: Armitage Hux has sabotaged his own Games and run off to join the Resistance, taking victors with him. Rey and Finn, so young and in love, and his friend Phasma. The Outer Rim was burning and the riots were coming ever so closer to the core worlds, and yet all Capitol could talk about was how taken Hux must've been with that star-crossed love, to abandon everything he had. Wasn't it heroic? Wasn't it romantic?

When Kylo first heard of it he had laughed and laughed and laughed, until the pain of his broken ribs proved to be too much and he fell back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Snoke, predictably, wasn't pleased with this development.

Kylo had already spent a few weeks in the hospital, slowly recovering from the wounds he sustained on the arena – or form the arena, more accurately – before the President came to visit. By then, the hospital room started to feel like a prison. Kylo wasn't allowed to leave for his own good, his access to the outside information was severely restricted, and he didn't see anyone besides doctors and nurses. He was left mostly alone, in this white room with white walls and little else besides bed. It didn't even have any windows – it was like the outside world didn't exists at all. Just white walls and days that looked more and more the same, until he lost count of them and started to wonder if any time passed at all. He wondered if anyone still remembered he was alive and if they did, did they still care? It felt like he had outlived his purpose, like he should've died back in the arena when he step into it for a second time. He had expected to die. He didn't think of anything that could happen after he got out.

Whatever Hux might've thought of him, Kylo wasn't stupid. He always knew his existence in the Capitol was conditional, depending on Snoke's whims. His presence was tolerated as long as he was useful, as long as he had the public's favour and could ensure it reflected on the President, as long as he could carry out Snoke's will. Whatever semblance of power Kylo thought he had was only an illusion. These were the rules of the Games, after all: if you won, you got to live in the golden cage as a favoured pet, with as much as freedom as a pet should have. There was always a leash Snoke could pull, after all, to get them to obey him. In the Games the dead were the only true winners.

But Kylo had outlived his usefulness, so he would be left to rot here, alone and forgotten.

Or so he had thought. But then Snoke came, as elegant and composed as he ever was, clad in a golden suit. He brought along the smell of roses and overwhelming pain.

There was no physical punishment, no torture or injuries. Snoke was much to refined for something so base. But he did want to punish Kylo and he wasn't above using pain to do it - in fact, he always had been much in favour of this method. Kylo didn't know what was in the drugs the medics had given him before the President came to visit, only that they made him scream and writhe as the fire spread through his veins and the pain swallowed him whole. Every sensation was heightened to the point of being unbearable. His skin felt stretched too thin, like it might break at any movement, and touching anything was an agony. All the clothing he wore felt like torture devices and even breathing hurt. He keened and scratched at himself, hardly aware he was no longer alone and not being able to care about anything besides finding even a little respite.

But he wasn't surprised when he heard the President's voice.

"Oh, Kylo," Snoke crooned. He brought his hand above Kylo's head and held it there, stopped in half-motion, like he meant to pat or cares him. Kylo could hardly think of anything less revolting. "You poor thing. Did you think I would leave you here?"

 _Yes_ , Kylo wanted to say, _yes, I did_. But all that escaped his lips was a whimper. Pathetic, just as he himself was, cowering and afraid of the slightest touch.

"I would never just leave you." Snoke' voice was deceptively gentle. "I'm not as heartless as you mother or your useless fool of a father. But you failed me anyway, did you not?"

When Snoke hand finally came down it was in a strike, one that left Kylo crying out in pain. Snoke didn't hit him that hard, because even if he was the President of the Republic and the most powerful man in the Galaxy, he was still a weak old man, one had never encountered violence, never learned how to hit someone properly. But with the drugs in Kylo's veins if felt like a broken bone, a sudden pain that built up in waves instead of fading.

"Tell me," Snoke said, ignoring Kylo's whimpers. "Did you knew about Hux's plan? He was your lover, after all. I thought he would've shared something as important with you, as he did with most of his ambitions."

Kylo tried to shake his head, choking on a scream as the stars bursts behind his lids at the motion.

"Oh, I know he rarely told you anything," Snoke continued, unconcerned. "But then again, he didn't have to. You could learned it on your own. Everyone could, the man was never exactly subtle in his longing for power. I've always found his hatred for me quite amusing, have I not told you that? Such an uninspired, simple man. Like a dog, really; once he had learned violence, he would bite anyone. I don't really know how you could've stand his company."

Snoke hummed, as if deep in thought. Kylo tried to breathe through the pain and not make a noise. He knew there would be only more coming.

"But you did enjoy his company," Snoke sounded amused. "Perhaps too much, if you couldn't even tell me when that cur planned to turn against the Capitol. Against me."

Another strike. Kylo couldn't fight a scream.

"But you couldn't even do something so simple."

There was something very terrifying about Snoke, which had always scared Kylo. Even though he wasn't physically imposing, old and thin and wrinkled, to the point he looked misshapen; even though he never raised his voice or acted like he felt anything at all. Snoke hardly seemed human; sometimes Kylo wondered if there was any blood left in him. Even know, when he should be furious and seething, he looked as he always did. Impassioned and almost bored. Even his eyes were strange, empty and glassy, like he didn't even look at what was around him. They reminded Kylo of a dead fish and the thought disgusted him, made him think of slime and stink and rotten things.

Snoke might've been rotten to his core, and yet it seemed the only feeling he was capable of was a hint of self-satisfaction. There was no real anger nor fear in him. He only hurt Kylo because he could, mechanically, and it didn't seem to bring him any real joy. He didn't seem to think of it at all, or even notice the screams.

Perhaps the pain would've been easier to bear if Snoke was a sadist who took pleasure in it. But now Kylo was lost in it, drowning in a sea with no shore in sight.

"You're quite useless, aren't you?" The way Snoke said it didn't make it sound like a question. "You know, I actually thought Hux cared about you, in his own way. That he would try to keep you, that the thought of losing you would scare him into doing the right thing. But he didn't take for you at all, did he? He left you there, in the arena, even when he had saved that little pesky scavenger. And he hates her! But he took her and left you to die. Just like your mother did."

Kylo closed his eyes. He tried to think what he could not say - that he always knew whatever has been between him and Hux was more of a product of circumstances than any genuine feelings; that he was aware it had an expiration date from day one, just like everything in Kylo's life; that he never expected Hux to save him. That Snoke had been the one to send him into the arena in the first place, for his own selfish reasons. The Snoke, more than anyone else, didn't care whether Kylo lived or died, as long as it suited his purposes.

But the pain was easier to ignore than the truth in Snoke's words. Everyone did leave him.

"I've misjudged him severely." Snoke looked down on him, his face unmoving and unreadable. "You, on the other hand... You've always been a love-stricken fool."

Kylo whimpered. Perhaps he had been, to believe there was anything else for him at all besides this. The truth of it hurt more than any drugs did. Snoke would chew him up and spit him out like he did with any other victor, would use him as a spy or propaganda tool or an incentive for other to do as they should, and there was no other way for him. It would all end up with him being dead anyway, and going along with offered at least modicum of power, even if it was illusionary.

Snoek might've not care what happened to him, but his cared for his puppets. It was better than nothing.

"Don't worry," Snoke said. "I'll still make use of you."

Kylo nodded, ignoring the blooming pain and trying to feel grateful, though he found no comfort in those words. But he still couldn't rid himself of a thought that maybe staying forgotten would've been a better fate.

 

* * *

 

Everything still felt like half a dream even after he had left that white room.

He had found the Capitol unchanged and seeming unmoved by the events of the Games. Any gossip he heard while still in the hospital had died down by now – someone had likely made it so, but it was quiet all the same. Coruscant remained ever unchanged, loud and bright and lovely. Somewhere on the Outer Rim there was a war going on and it was only growing closer, no one really cared about it here, not when there were so many things to see and enjoy. The Capitol was always moving and always rushing somewhere, so it was no surprise it had notoriously short memory.

Kylo thought Coruscant was epitome of what the Hunger Games were about: all that fabricated beauty and excitement and nothing true to be found anywhere. Of course the people of Coruscant enjoyed watching the Games – it gave them the illusion of real feeling they craved and feared at the same time. But they would never think of anything that happened on the screen as real or truly painful and they would never understand it. The war probably seemed as real to them as the Games, which meant not at all. They were perfectly desensitized to anything that didn't come pre-packaged to their tastes and Kylo hated them for it.

Capitol would still be dancing while the whole Galaxy was burning; they seemed quite determined to do so. Kylo had half-expected to be thrown right back into it, like he had been so many times before. Snoke had always been a bit of a mysterious presence, rarely showing up in the society, but he liked hearing what they cared about – and they loved telling Kylo all about it. They loved him, too, and all he had to do was to seem sad and tragic and a little dangerous, and they would romanticize him and adore him, like a rare breed of wild bird.

But this time Snoke wanted him to lay low, or so it seemed. There would be no parties and meetings and absolutely no interviews. Kylo couldn't think of why, not when Snoke needed the core worlds' support so much, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. Instead his stumbled into an apartment he almost forgot he still had.

It, too, remained unchanged and utterly alien. It never felt familiar or comforting - he never spend here enough time for it to start to feel so -but now, when he knew he didn't have anywhere else to go, it seemed even more cold. Even with all the tasteful furniture and top of the line entertainment system it looked empty, devoid of all personal touches. But it was only a place and as far as prisons went, it was downright luxurious.

He would’ve been a fool to think that just because Snoke had let him go for now his punishment was over. It was merely postponed, because the President had another use of him. But it would come.

Kylo wondered idly what happened to Millie, if Hux took her with him or if he left her alone in his apartment, to hide and wait until the stormtroopers came to trash the place. He didn't think Hux would leave her, but he used to think many things of Hux and they all turned out to be wrong, so clearly he hadn't had the right idea. Maybe Hux was exactly the kind of cold bastard who would leave his own cat to die and Kylo just never saw it.

Whatever the truth was, he would never learn it. He would never be allowed to look for Millicent and if Hux really did leave her here, she wouldn't be still alive anyway. And there was no chance he would ever see Hux again.

He thought he would die in the arena and the thought of it hurt less than this did.

Kylo has long ago accepted the inevitability of his own death - the though stopped scaring him long before he stopped into the arena for the second time. He thought maybe Rey could survive; she deserved at least that, and she was a better person than any victor had right to be. Maybe one day Hux could get what he wanted, if his Games were a success. He didn't care much about anything else. If he was lucky, then he would've died there and be done with it all. Instead he was still stuck performing for someone else's pleasure and Hux could already be dead, for all he knew. For all that it mattered, really. Hux was gone, along with his stupid cat and Phasma and even Rey. He would never see them again.

He would never see Hux again.

Perhaps all that happened between his first Games and now, all the moments he had carved out for himself, was just borrowed time, so now he had to pay for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped to get out this chapter like two weeks earlier, but March has been Not Good for me and this chapter has kicked my butt, so I'm just glad it's done. I'm sorry for the delay - I hope you still enjoyed it, even though it's unbetad and a little short. Please tell me what you think!


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